


The Fox, the Cage, and the Scullerymaid

by by_veidt



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (2009) RPF, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 23:00:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4979947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/by_veidt/pseuds/by_veidt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Constable Clark is the first to find Sherlock after Ms. Adler's antics, the opportunity arises for further investigation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fox, the Cage, and the Scullerymaid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bananimosity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bananimosity/gifts).



> It's funnier if you remember the conversation after this scene with the two in the carriage.

It had been quite a long time, and Holmes used the time to sit there and mull over his carelessness, the soreness in his wrists growing numb. He clenched the muscles in his back, a mild stretch to relieve some tension. His eyes opened slowly as the door knob rotated, a dark blue uniform embodied by someone who was backing in through the door, closing it swiftly behind him. The peek of ginger up the back of the man's skull revealed his identity. He turned just as swiftly. "Oh, thank heavens. I was only moments from chewing through my left arm."  
Clark stopped as his line of sight fell upon Holmes. "My apologies, sir; I thought the maid was overreacting." He couldn't help but smile a little to himself, and almost laugh.   
"Well, it certainly wasn't my intention to startle her, nor end up in this position."  
"She's a crafty one--not the maid."  
"Yes." Holmes gazed off past the other man as he considered the situation again. Clark removed his helmet slowly, approaching Homes. He asked about the key, but no response followed.  
"Sir?"  
Holmes shook his head and met eyes with the officer. "I'm sorry?"  
"I asked if she left the key." The constable tried to avoid stealing glances at the man in front of him, but couldn't help himself, hoping, and knowing better, that Holmes wouldn't notice.  
"Oh! Yes. It's under the pillow," he glanced down briefly, "The one on my lap. From what I can tell though," he shifted slightly, "it's rather precariously placed. Awfully bold of her," he pondered, eyes tracing patterns in the ceiling. Sherlock's heart beat noticeably faster, the vulnerability of his situation coming forward more into his conscious space; that uniform was dreadfully flattering on the other man. He could feel the faint flush rise up his chest and spill onto his cheeks, suppressing the reaction as much as possible. Constable Clark was always so reliable, and definitively the most clever of all of Scotland Yard, and he couldn't help but feel the situation was a little more perverse than it should be.  
The approaching officer saw the blush rise and was momentarily relieved at the humility that Sherlock couldn't hide in this situation, but his anxiety grew as similar sentiments crossed his mind. He was so beautiful; restrained just enough and he could see every inch of him, every muscle change. Holmes would have to employ every effort to attempt any concealment, and the thought that he had to at all was almost too exciting for the constable.   
Holmes could almost see the thoughts projecting off of him, just within his line of sight as he tried to nonchalantly distract himself with particulars around the room, a futile attempt to hide any intentions his body was beginning to reveal more and more. He flexed anxiously as Clark reached the edge of the bed, a gloved hand resting on the foot-board  
There was only a brief pause before Holmes took in a quick breath, "Well, now, if you don't mind, my wrists have gone a little limp."  
Clark grinned. He tried not to at first, but his lascivious thoughts overcame him, crawling onto the bed, kneeling in front of Holmes. He reached out to one hand, rubbing the skin on either side of the cuff. Holmes made a small noise, the ache down to his bone, closing his eyes as he realized he was staring at the officer's crotch as the man messaged his wrist.   
There was a feather-light kiss on the inside of Holmes' elbow, and his body tightened, Clark leaning back. "My apologies, Sir. I didn't--I was overcome for a moment."  
"You spur my embarrassment, Clarky, but please do not misinterpret my intentions. I am simply unaccustomed to this situation." He pulled on his bindings gently, indicating his point of anxiety.   
"Mr. Holmes..." the officer leaned in, hands on either side of Holmes as he kissed his neck, delicately at first, pulling back momentarily, hesitation still creeping through his body. Holmes took the opportunity to lean into him, pressing his mouth to the other's, tight at the end of his restraints as his tongue made a furious attempt to claim Clark's. He quickly overcame his surprise, pressing back against Holmes, hands grasping his rib-cage, thumbs brushing over Holmes' nipples, fingers pressing into his back as he lunged for the other's neck, sucking at the cooling flesh. Holmes drew in a startled breath, exposing himself more to the other. "Nn, door."   
"What?" Clark pulled back, taking in a deep breath.  
"The door," Holmes breathed, eyes indicating it in the distance.  
"Right." He climbed off the bed, walking briskly to the door and turning the key that had been loitering in the lock. He hurried himself back, Holmes' lingering half smile following him to the bed. "Right. Where were we?"  
"You were taking advantage of my somewhat helpless situation by unbridledly ravishing me."  
"You make it sound so indecent."  
"Then permit me indecent incoherence."  
"With pleasure." He rest his hands in the crook of Holmes' hips and thighs, lapping over the raised flesh on his chest, biting lightly, a tense hiss responding. Tongue replaced teeth again, Clark leaving a trail of kisses up, speaking against his neck, "Oh, Mr. Holmes... the things I could do to you--the things I've imagined." He nipped at his earlobe, "But I never imagined I'd ever have you. And I will have you." Sherlock's heart beat a little harder as the officer spoke, stiffened cock beginning to ache from neglect. He admitted to himself that he didn't actually expect this from Clarky; he always seemed so normal. Not boring, but predictable. Reliable. Not salacious, but oh how he was.   
Clark sat back, licking his lips and waiting for Holmes to find his gaze on him. Sherlock met his eyes, the pink in his skin growing darker as Clarky reached for the pillow, pulling it away slowly. A hot flush ran up Holmes, his stare staying fixed on where the other's would be if he wasn't grinning at Sherlock's lap. A small silver key dangled just below the head, two pristine gloved fingers stroking up from the base, catching the key in between them and Holmes' breath in the same movement. He examined it for a moment before slipping it into his jacket pocket, glove cupping Holmes and drawing up slowly again, a small noise catching the man's attention, looking up to see Holmes' eyelids flutter slightly as they stayed solemnly closed. Fabric fingers closed around his yearning flesh, slowly stroking him, gently, Sherlock moaning quietly. He was still controlled, purposefully enticing Clark with resistance to his ministrations.  
He gave a firm squeeze to the member when it twitched, Holmes stifling another groan through his nose. "Must I endure this torture?" The hand made its way up the body before it, middle finger pausing on Holmes' lower lip, pushing in just enough for his teeth to grip the tip. The hand slid free, grasping the glove and stroking it over Sherlock's cheek before casting it away. The middle and index finger found themselves between Holmes' lips, messaging his tongue. He swallowed as the digits removed themselves, Clark examining their new viscosity, before settling on the other's gaze again, reaching under him, pressing against the tight ring of muscle of Holmes' ass. He squirmed gently, Clark's cock throbbing against the restraint of his pants. He knew his constitution would never outlast Holmes', but he liked the challenge. His fingertips brushed over Holmes' swelling gland, breath hitching as each visible muscle systematically tightened up his body. "Ooh, right there, Clarky." Holmes could feel his face burn as the words left his mouth, but the stimulation was well worth the humiliation. The constable smiled to himself as he watched the detective writhe underneath him, pleading for him.   
A few strokes later and a heavy moan and the officer was beyond himself with lust, withdrawing his fingers and hastily unfastening his belt and pants, pulling himself out with a few satiating pumps. Holmes eyes widened just slightly, swallowing harder than he intended; Clark noticed. "My apologies, sir, if I'm assuming too much."   
Holmes blinked hard and looked up to Clark, who was staring at him. "Hm? Oh, no. I'm sorry. On the breakfast tray. There's olive oil." Clark was momentarily startled by his frankness, but shouldn't have expected anything else. He scrambled over to the cart near the door, grabbing the small, silver decanter and rushed back. Sherlock had a drunken look about him, slowly turning to Clark. These interactions were seldom for him, and he wasn't quite sure how to deal with the loss of control over his body he was experiencing, and it showed.   
"Mr. Holmes?"   
The detective met the officer's gaze, his lips parted slightly with an almost devious smile. "Through the headboard then, Clarky." Clark could feel the rush of blood back into his cock, spilling oil into his hand and thoroughly coating his throbbing member. He settled himself just under Holmes, cock rubbing up against Holmes', Sherlock's head lulling back. Clark rocked slowly against him a few times. When he earned himself a quiet moan, he lifted Holmes up more, settling his aching flesh against that tight ring, lowering the other down onto himself, forehead pressed just as firmly to Sherlock's chest as he did his best to restrain himself and gravity. Holmes rolled his hips forward slightly, forcing himself down further, groaning heatedly as his chin touched down to the back of Clark's head. "Easy now," Clark breathed, fingertips dug into each side of Holmes' ass as he resisted the detective's orders for the moment.   
As Holmes' settled completely onto the constable's lap, Clark kissed gently at the other's chest, grip loosening to slide over the curve of muscle under him. Holmes stared distantly off into the room, the depravity of his physical vices making him smile to himself, rolling himself against Clark, who groaned against him in return. "I prayed to God everyday that I might have this perfect body to myself, if only for a moment. I must be in his favor to have you for longer," he spoke softly against Holmes' skin.   
"Don't you fear his condemnation?"  
"If he would punish me for my mortal weakness towards such wonder then I am content to burn long after our time together."  
"Clarky..." Holmes spoke softly, the officer tilting his head up. Holmes lips barely touched the other man's as he spoke, "I believe I gave you an order." Clark felt his skin crawl before Sherlock pressed his mouth against Clark's, tongue ravaging past his bewildered lips. The officer's arms wrapped tightly around Sherlock's waist, rocking up against him, a desperate moan breaking their duel before Clark reclaimed the other's mouth. Holmes' hips rolled against the officer, cock pressed firmly against Clark's body. Sherlock broke away from his mouth again, panting against his shoulder, small groans punctuating his breaths. Though just a glimmer of satisfaction, Clark grinned to himself, hands running up Holmes' back. His arms were taut against his restraints, but he didn't seem to notice. Clark's hands roamed back down to the other's hips, gripping him hard as he thrust just a bit harder, a sharp gasp causing him a moments pause. Holmes rutted against him with an air of agitation; he could only do so much if the officer was going to leave him strung up, and that dawned on Clark. He held Sherlock at bay, pushing into him slowly, enjoying the way the man writhed against his grip, desperate and bound and so delightfully out of control.   
Holmes surrendered a chiding growl as the constable thrust into him with long and slow motions. Clark's eyes surveyed every change on the body before him; the glossy coat of perspiration that caught the morning light, the flat, rough splash of rose that painted his collarbone and cheeks, the distraught tension in his shoulders and arms, and the solidity of his blood strained cock flushed dark against the blanched color of his thighs, dewed with precum. It bounced against his coat with every attempted canter, stifled by Clark's hands that pressed his flesh fish-white. And he smiled to himself again, meeting those calculating, chestnut eyes as they glowered at him, lips parted and, for once, wordless. All except one: "Please".   
And all Clark could do was abide. He shifted his knees father apart, leaning forward as he thrust hard into the waiting body before him, Sherlock's shoulders abruptly stopped by the headboard and pinned there as the constable ravaged him, pistoning into him with enough force to cause the bed to knock against the wall in the same fevered rhythm. Holmes bit back a quivering moan, but his attempt to restrain it failed him and elated Clark. The officer bit at Holmes' collarbone, sucking with the intention of marking him, claiming him.   
Clark released his grip on the man, setting his arms up under Holmes' knees and pressing his palms flat to the headboard on either side of him, causing Sherlock to mutter in Latin between the keening and moaning he couldn't contain against Clark's head as he worked on marking him more.   
The constable's forehead settled against Holmes as he panted, waiting for that perfect moment. And it came; he could feel Sherlock's body tighten just enough, a raspy hitching in his breathing the inevitable tell. Clark leaned back, settling just under Holmes again, arms wrapped tightly around the more than willing body as he readjusted his pace. Holmes' head lulled forward next to the other's, breath erratic as his body trembled. "That's it, Mr. Holmes..." Clark spoke against his neck, kissing him gently. "Give yourself to me."   
Sherlock's body pulled against his bindings, and Clark could feel it run down his body. "Oh, Clarky..." he breathed lowly, spilling onto Clark's coat, trembling just slightly. Clark chuckled lightly as he paced himself to completion, not far behind. He drew out his last few thrusts, sighing heavily against Holmes' shoulder. The detective rested against the officer, breath still heavy against Clark's neck. The constable reached into his pocket, pulling out the key and maneuvering around Holmes. The first cuff popped open and elicited a sharp inhale from the wrist's owner. The second was just a bit more stubborn, but released him eventually, Clark catching the limp body and laying him down on the bed gently. He got up, grabbing the napkin off of the tray and cleaning himself off before putting himself away, climbing back onto the bed and wiping Holmes down.   
After a few moments Sherlock looked over to Clark as he meticulously cleaned him. He rested a hand on him, smiling as the officer met his gaze. Clark looked down at Holmes' wrist and frowned, taking it in his hands and kissing the blooming fuchsia mark in his skin. Holmes fingers wound around the other's tie, pulling him down and closer. Clark rest a hand on either side of him. He couldn't remember if he had ever seen Holmes smile for so long and that made him smile as well. He laid a tender kiss on Sherlock's lips. "My sincerest apologies about your jacket, Clarky."  
"It's no worry, Mr. Holmes. Occupational hazard, I suppose." Holmes grinned at that, patting Clark's chest.  
"No worry at all."


End file.
